


The Warmer

by ConceptaDecency



Series: Go Climb a Rock [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Good Doctoring, Hypothermia, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Tenderness, Truth Serum, Warming Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27482431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/pseuds/ConceptaDecency
Summary: Garak only agreed to climb this mountain to spend more time with Doctor Bashir, and despite an unpleasant setback (which worries the doctor much more than it does Garak) he is getting what he came for. And more.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Go Climb a Rock [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008252
Comments: 54
Kudos: 169





	The Warmer

**Author's Note:**

> This is another take on the visit to the Tona Lovers' Festival on Bajor that Julian takes Garak along to because he and Leeta have broken up and, well, he still has the tickets, but it isn't meant to be in the same universe as there's a bit more tenderness here and less clueless Julian having friendly sex with his lunch companion. I hope you enjoy both!

"Garak?"

"Yes?"

"I've been calling your name for ages. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Doctor." He's a bit cold. Okay, freezing. But he isn't about to reveal that weakness. Not when he's already humiliated himself by being rather less fit than he'd realised, obliging his younger companion to exercise a great deal of patience when ascending the mountain. It had been obvious that Doctor Bashir had been longing to break ahead and charge up the slope like a young Iporean goat, but he'd very decently kept to Garak's much slower pace. "It's a stunning view, isn't it? I think that's Agga Island over there."

"That's what I just said. Garak, you really aren't okay, are you?"

"Doctor..."

But he has his damned tricorder out already.

"Garak. Your core body temperature's dropped to thirty degrees." Out of nowhere a hot hand is on Garak's forehead. He flinches in surprise. Though the heat is welcome. "And your reflexes are slow."

"Doctor, I'm fine. Let's enjoy the view. It is the reason we came to Bajor and climbed this accursed rock." Not precisely true, although perhaps it had been Bashir's reason. Garak had agreed to climb a mountain just to have an excuse to spend two days alone with this most irritating man.

"And you're irritable." The doctor's arm is suddenly around Garak's waist, and he finds himself being led down the path. "You're showing signs of hypothermia. Come on."

"Where are we going?" Garak asks, his urge to argue at being manhandled at odds with his desire to melt into Bashir's warm embrace.

"To warm you up," says Bashir, and as they've already reached their destination, he offers no further explanation.

A young Bajoran woman, bundled against the cold (though it's likely only a mild chill for her) in a thick knit typical of the region, leans on a wooden counter. "Peldar Tona, beloveds," she greets them. The typical greeting to any pair or group that seem to be together at the Tona Lovers' Festival. Garak has not got used to it being applied to himself and Bashir yet, but is heartened that the doctor does not seem to mind it in the least, despite them unfortunately being nothing more than friends. "Is your partner well?"

"He's a bit cold," Bashir says, and squeezes Garak tighter. Garak isn't certain which is more warming, the squeeze or the fact that Bashir has not bothered to deny that he and Garak are partners. ( _It's for expediency and politeness,_ says a voice in the back of his head. Garak curses the voice and wills himself to melt further into the fuzzy, euphoric feeling of being warmed by Julian Bashir's arm and flank.) "But he'll be fine after I warm him up."

"Of course! Plenty of lovers come here for _warming up_." The young woman grins. "Is it your first time on Mount Tona?"

Garak allows the fuzziness to take over as Julian — no, Doctor Bashir — and the woman discuss details. How long it takes he has no idea, but he's jolted awake again when Bashir whispers in his ear.

"Come on, Garak. Don't fall asleep. We'll be there in a minute. Come on. One foot in front of the other. It's not far." Bashir, still at Garak's side, has fully encircled Garak with both arms and is urging him to walk.

"Have fun, lovers," the young woman calls, behind them. "Remember, if you need more time, just flip the sign."

"Julian, you haven't..." Garak trails off when he realises he's used the doctor's given name. Something he's no right to.

"I have," Bashir says, firm. Staunchly the good doctor. 

They're on the threshold of a small wooden hut. Garak knows exactly what it is. A lovers' hut. A building with no other purpose than to provide privacy to couples completing the ascent of Mount Tona; it isn't enough to climb it. Before descending, it's considered good luck to make love on the summit. The locals do a roaring trade in cosy, romantic huts hireable by the hour or the night.

It's regrettably necessary that Bashir withdraw one arm in order to open the door, but he soon has it around Garak again. 

"Come on, up we go," says the doctor, but Garak finds he's unable to move his legs with any certainty, and then Bashir is pulling him up the stair into the small room. 

"Is this okay?" Bashir asks, and Garak is confused. The doctor has said they are warming him up, and Garak has assumed that was all. Is he asking permission to...? No, he wouldn't, not Julian, not while Garak is _like this_. He's just taken Garak to the closest available shelter in order to _doctor_ him. And...that is fine too. "I got one of the deluxe huts. I thought the others might be too small for you."

Oh. Of course. The claustrophobia. Julian’s remembered.

Garak appraises the single room. It's small. Tight, yes, close, but neat. A very large, low wooden dowel bedstead with a long pillow and a thick burgundy and black blanket, made of a similar rustic weave to the clerk's wrap, sits in the centre, taking up most of the floorspace. The only other furniture is two bedside cabinets and a floor lamp with a flickering light in one corner. It's a level of darkness that is normal for Cardassians, but probably romantic for Bajorans. And possibly humans. The floor is smooth wooden boards with thick woven rugs on either side of the bed, burgundy and black to match the bedding. Above the headboard, in the peak of the roof, is a small window, too high and small to allow for any peeking. 

"It's fine," Garak finds himself saying, and it is. He feels no alarm at the size of the room. It's clean and smells good, and Julian is here.

"Okay." Julian, Garak now realises, has been holding the door open. He pulls it shut and, once it's securely closed, manoeuvres Garak towards the bed and helps him to sit down. "Strip," he says. "Doctor's orders."

Garak opens his mouth to argue, but knows as he's doing so that it would be futile. He simply doesn’t have the strength. And...he doesn't really want to. Argue, that is. Strip, not strip, he is fine either way. Because he's been told to, he scrabbles at the outerwear fastening under his chin. It's a challenge. The small catch keeps eluding his grasp. But eventually he manages to snake it halfway down his chest.

"God, Garak, you really aren't well." Bashir's hot hand is on his, and helping him to undo the garment and to shrug it off. "Now this," says the doctor, picking at the hem of Garak's long-sleeved overshirt. "Arms up. There we go." 

The overshirt, along with the two layers under it, slide off of Garak’s body as Bashir tugs them up, only catching a little on Garak's head and wrists. Bashir gives a final pull and Garak’s hair crackles with static as the layers pop off. The indignity of being undressed like a child, of having Bashir see his hair mussed, of knowing his poor clothes are lying unloved in a lump, should bother Garak, but he is simply beyond caring. What does bother him is the sudden shock of cold at his exposed upper body. He is unable to suppress a gasp, and then a second one at the sight before him.

"Doctor, you're naked,” he says, thickly.

But. No. No, Bashir isn’t naked, not quite. As a tailor and as a seasoned intelligence agent Garak should have noticed this straight away. Bashir is crouched in front of him, chest, arms, and tops of his legs and knees visible and exposed, but Garak has missed seeing that Bashir left on a pair of black Starfleet-issue briefs. 

"It's the best way to warm you up, I'm afraid, Garak. I'm getting in there with you, at least for a while. Don't worry, though." Bashir grins. "I'll leave the briefs on."

"You're quite welcome." Garak isn't sure himself if he means Bashir is welcome to join him in the bed or if he is welcome to remove his briefs if he wishes.

"Good. Now, these're next." Bashir lifts Garak's left foot to prise off his boot and sock, and then does the same with the right. 

The cold nips at Garak's feet and he curls his toes, which is a little painful to do. Garak gasps again, partly from the cold and partly the pain.

Bashir notices. He tuts. "Come on, one more thing and you can get under the blankets. I'm going to take off your trousers, okay?"

"Pl'se do," says Garak, and before the words have left his unwieldy lips the doctor's hands are loosening his belt, then his trousers and thermal underlayer are being pulled by the hems and whisked off of him to who knows where. The cold is excruciating, but in one fluid movement the doctor has bundled him under the covers and pressed his long, hot body all up and down the length of Garak's own. He's like fire, painful on the parts of Garak, like his thighs and lower back, that are less protected by scales, but the feeling is momentary. Soon a glorious sensation of life-giving, glowing heat is emanating from the man cohered to his back.

"Is this okay?" Bashir asks, and throws an arm over Garak's chest. 

" _You must know that you intoxicate me, my dearest blissful sun's ray,_ " Garak mutters, but in the Service Dialect of his youth, a language he's fairly certain the doctor's Universal Translator will not be able to decipher.

"Mmmmmm." Bashir's non-committal hum gives Garak no indication if he's understood or not, but Garak is beyond caring. "I'll take that as a yes."

"'T was."

"Good." The heat from the doctor's breath warms the back of Garak's neck and they are still for a moment. Garak begins to drift. 

"Garak?"

"Mmmm?"

"Don't fall asleep. Not yet."

"Iwwon't," says Garak, but he feels it might not be a promise he'll be able to keep. Bashir's glow is infusing him with a pleasant sleepiness that he doesn't particularly wish to fight.

"Okay, good." A pause. "I didn't realise you weren't wearing underwear."

"We don't."

"Well, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to see you naked."

"You c'ld be naked too."

Bashir snorts. "Maybe next time."

"Only fair."

"Of course. But seriously, Garak, you have to understand that it was important that we get you into bed as quickly as possible."

_If I'd known this was how to get you into bed I'd have climbed Mount Tona years ago._

"Is that so?" Bashir laughs into the back of Garak's neck. "You could have just said something."

Oh. That was out loud. Well, no matter. The doctor seems undisturbed. "Perhaps no mountain next time."

"Hmmmmm. Perhaps not." The doctor's arm shifts and unpeels itself from Garak's side, which is very unpleasant as it suggests at first that the doctor may be leaving, but he only catches Garak's wrist between his fingers and feels his pulse point. "Your heart rate is a lot faster, your speech is clearer, and you're making jokes."

"'S not a joke."

"Suggestive remarks, then."

"Mmmm."

There are soft, hot lips on the back of his neck.

"Go to sleep, Garak. I'll be here when you wake up. We'll talk about it then."

**Author's Note:**

> I realise some of the symptoms of hypothermia, as well as the treatment, might not be correct for a human patient, but luckily Garak is an alien. 
> 
> I hope this fic made you feel warm and fuzzy. I'd love it if you left a kudos or a comment. They're eternal flames!


End file.
